Harry Potter and the HalfBlood Prince
by CoryashireDM
Summary: The magical world is in utter chaos. Voldemorts return is now accepted, but the failings of the Ministry of Magic is not. A poet unnamed once sung of history old, could it be that this poet holds the keys to unlocking the troubled and dangerous future?
1. The Destined Fates

Chapter One

The Destined Fates

A noble man so strong and bold  
With the Courage that's so often told  
Whose heart could warm the coldest cold  
In adversities face, he would not fold

A maiden of heart kind and true  
In her a friendship through and through  
Here gentle song would calm and soothe  
No hatred from her voice ensued

Of sharpest skill, of quickest mind  
In her the tomes of knowledge finds  
A place to wait till it was time  
To share her knowledge in words divine

Ambition was his greatest friend  
To his lust he would often tend  
No compassion would he ever lend  
And for this his friendships would end

They joined together in times of old  
They knew what they must do  
To join together in their call  
United through and through

They built upon a cliff so high  
A castle reaching to the sky  
A place where magic would find  
The chance to enter golden times

They worked together through the years  
Their hearts together their bonds strong  
But in one there crept hate and fear  
And so this begins the end my friends

They thought that they would never be parted within the strength of their castle and kindred ship. Their hearts had risen together; their hopes and dreams the same. But soon, the rift would form that would tear through their bond.

Let it be known, those of blood impure  
Have no right to learn magic here  
They are not worthy to hold  
The arcane gifts that we behold

It was the beginning of the end of a grand dream; his heart was set, his mind was made.

But if we deny from ones blood worth  
The fate of magic will soon be cursed  
But if all who come with magic's gift  
The world of magic soon would lift

His anger grew; his hatred spawned; his heart was cold; his mind was set. He would leave upon the legacy he sought. And so, in secret he worked, hiding his motives from the others who he had once counted as friends. With each day, his resentment would grow.

And so one dark and storming night, there rose again a fight that threatened to tear down the castle walls. And in a rage, he did depart into the night, never to be seen again by those he had once stood so strong with.

Now as the years have come and gone; the castle remained a haven of magic in a time when those of the arts were persecuted out of fear. But within the walls, it was not right, and it lends fully to the fight long since passed. Many would walk within these halls in times when danger loomed. Little did they know that there were hidden unknown sacred lines within the castle walls. But danger came and danger passed, and never did they hear the call. But now, on the dark horizons, the call is forming, its notes rising, and unseen destinies lie hidden.

A man will rise from hatred spawned  
His anger knows no bounds  
A dark new day would one day dawn  
Its heart will poison the ground

But one will rise from family torn  
To in his destiny he will be born  
To fight that man so wrongly scorned  
He will rise to call the destined horns

But alone he can not do his task  
For one lies hidden in name that's masked  
Whose mind holds the secrets of powers unknown  
That will someday be written in histories tome

There lies danger ahead, but even in the coldest of nights, it is always darkest before the dawn. The sun will rise again upon the time of fear and fighting. Hope lies in the one unknown, hidden by name untrue.

* * *

The sound of dripping water could be heard; it reverberated against the rough stone walls. The room was dark and foreboding, for only a faint light filled the room from an unseen source. The air was cold; mist rose from the breath of anyone who entered. They shivered, but in truth it was not the cold that made them tremble.

In the center of the room was a large block of a black shiny stone. Its polished surfaces reflected the room. It was an imposing sight to see, but it was the reflection in the top that was truly frightful.

A man sat with his fingers rapping the top of the stone table. He was sitting in a high back chair draped in black velvet. His red eyes glared at a stone wall at the end opposite his desk. His cat like pupils were shrewd and calculating; His pale face was ever more gruesome by the nose, not a humans nose but one like a snakes, flat, and at present, the nostrils were flared; This man clearly was in a state of agitation. He was silent; the only sound was the gentle drips of the water.

"Come in Lucius," said the frightful man with a sinister cold voice that pierced the air.

The wall at the far end of the room seemed to shiver, and from the solid wall formed a door; it was as if the wall was melting. Soon an archway had formed large enough for a person to walk through.

A man with a sneering pointed face strolled casually into the room, and faced his master unflinchingly. "Yes my lord?" said Lucius in a sneering voice to match his face. He sank into a low bow, and waited.

"Rise," said Voldemort with a smile on his face. "I am growing tired of waiting," said voldemort, his voice turning cold once more. "My followers have failed. I wish to know what is keeping them from fulfilling the task I have set for them."

Lucius's sneer faded as he bowed once more before Voldemort. "We apologize for our task taking longer, but we have found no leads. I have sent Pettigrew to try to discover where they are hiding, but he has not returned." Lucius bowed once more.

"I do not want to wait any longer," said Voldemort, his voice rising. "I have waited to long, and I am disappointed in the inability of my loyal followers to do what I have asked of them. Do their loyalties wane?"

Lucius bowed, looking frightened. "I remain loyal," he said trying to keep his voice even.

"You may go," said Voldemort quietly.

Lucius bowed his way back out of the room, and out the archway, which closed after his retreat in the corridor beyond.

Once more, the only sound was the trickle of water. He sat in silence for many minutes, his anger rising within himself at the incapability of his followers to do what he had asked of them. It had been over a year since the prophecy happened. The Potters and the Longbottoms had both long since gone into hiding. And here, many months later, in the cold autumn night, he sat in his subterranean study facing what was likely another month's work at trying to find the Potters. And yet, there was Pettigrew, a faithful servant, or was he mistaken. Had the spy in the order turned on him? Had he decided that his loyalties lie elsewhere? The thought made Voldemorts anger stronger inside his mind. But his thoughts were soon interrupted by a sound. Someone was knocking on the other side of the stone wall where the arch had appeared and disappeared.

"Yes," said Voldemort feeling highly annoyed. "Why do you bother me? Come in!"

The doorway opened once more, and a small timid looking man with watery black eyes entered through the door which closed shut behind him.

"You better be bringing me good news Pettigrew," Voldemort said coldly. "I will no longer tolerate failure from my subjects."

Pettigrew was shaking as he looked up into Voldemorts face. He stood, shaking in the cold, looking fearfully before he sank into a trembling bow at the foot of the stone slab.

"Well?"

"I… I h-have news…" his voice faltered for a few seconds. "t-that will make your lordship pleased." He fell silent and stood, still shaking from head to foot.

"And?" questioned Voldemort impatiently. "I do so long wish to know where you have been hiding for the past 6 months." Voldemort rested his chin on his long pale fingertips.

"The… t-the p-potters have m-made me t-there secret k-keepers," said wormtail timidly.

Voldemorts expression changed in an instant. His face was alight with a wicked grin as he surveyed the man before, who had stopped shaking now that his master was in a happy mood.

"When did this take place Pettigrew?" said Voldemort looking at Pettigrew with his cat like pupils.

"6 m-months a-ago," said Pettigrew in a stronger voice then before.

Voldemorts grin faded. "Why has it taken you 6 months to tell me," said Voldemort, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. Pettigrew was shaking again.

"I…I thought it wise to wait… to provide face to the s-situation," said Pettigrew shaking. "I felt that it… it would…. Be wise to… to not create suspicion."

"You lie!" said voldemort, his voice rising and filling the room with a menacing echo that cut through Pettigrew, who whimpered as his master's rage towered over him. "You were scared! I can see it in your eyes. Your loyalty wavered!"

Voldemorts face was livid; his red eyes seemed to burn with his anger as he looked at the trembling form of wormtail. There was a long pregnant pause.

"However," said Voldemort, his fury subsiding somewhat. "You have brought to me that which I needed most of all. Though your loyalty wavered, you have done well in the end. However," said Voldemort, his voice rising once more. "I will not tolerate it ever again. Your loyalty is to me and me alone, and you will serve that which you pledged and agreed to."

Voldemort paused once more, wondering if he should punish Pettigrew for his insolence, but choose that he would do it later, there were more important things now.

"You will take me to them, and may your loyalty be in the future ever strong, or you will face my fury!" said Voldemort rising; towering over the short figure before him. "We will leave by the cover of night. You may go."

Pettigrew exited as the door opened once more. When it had closed in behind him, Voldemort paced the room, his mood ecstatic. He was ready to prove that there was no force stronger then him. No mere child could ever stand a chance against his might. Soon, the world would be in no doubt.

And so, he paced for hours, obsessing over his future victory until at last, he knew it was the night hours. He exited (the wall parted as he approached) into the corridor beyond, his footsteps echoing off the tunneled path as it twisted and turned like a snake's lair. He entered into a large domed hall. Inlaid stone snakes twisted on the floor, while others were inlaid into the stone wall. It was lit with an unseen green light source. Upon one of the wall was a carving of a skull with a snake as a tongue. He reached out, and touched it.

The air was filled with the sounds of apperating wizards, and he moved into the center of the room. They formed a circle around him, all waiting in silence.

"For the past 6th months I have waited," said Voldemort, his cold sinister voice echoing off the stone dome above them. "I have waited for my deatheaters to find the Potters. And for the past 6 months you have failed miserably." A shiver ran through the gathered deatheaters. "You have disappointed me!"

Voldemort began to pace around the circle, staring into the faces of his deatheaters, who tried not to show the fear within themselves, but Voldemort knew, Voldemort always knows.

"And now you stand before me," Voldemort paused, and stared around at this loyal subjects. "You all may have failed me!" Voldemort walked over to the trembling short Peter Pettigrew. "But one has finally done what they were asked to do."

Voldemort return to the center of the circle. "He alone has found the Potters, the path is now clear, and the world will learn that Lord Voldemort is the most powerful wizard of all!"

His voice echoed around him like a deathly chorus. Some of the deatheaters shivered again.

"The situation has been rectified," said Voldemort in a low voice. "You all have been saved by Pettigrew. I will expect better of all of you in the future."

And one by one, the deatheaters in procession moved forward crawling on their knees to kiss the hem of Voldemorts billowing black robes. Once the last person had moved back into place, Voldemort looked around once more.

"You will now be in no doubt as to who is more powerful," said Voldemort in a soft dangerous voice. "I will call you at sunrise, when he is dead, and our path is clear. You may leave."

One by one, the deatheaters apperated, leaving Voldemort alone with Pettigrew who was trying to hide the fact that his knees where shaking as he stood, watching his master.

"Now is the time Pettigrew," said Voldemort coldly. "You will lead me to them."

Pettigrew nodded, and moved forward towards his master.

"I will not be pleased if you fail to apparate to the right location," Warned Voldemort. "I will apparate to your side, and if you bring me to the wrong location, you will feel the full wrath of your master."

Pettigrew gulped and disappeared with a dull pop. Voldemort vanished with a swish of his black robe.

They were standing under a shade of a large tree that lined a cobbled stone road. A decaying stone fence lined the road, and in the distance could be seen an empty lot overgrown with grasses. It too had a decaying stone fence with a rickety wooden gate. Pettigrew leading the way moved toward the empty lot; Voldemorts eyes narrowed in excitement as they approached

They stopped outside the old gate which was hanging limply on one rusty hinge. The wind rustled the trees around them.

"This is where the potters are," said Pettigrew in a constrained voice. "They live here in Godric's Hollow at this house."

Voldemorts pupils contracted as he watched as from the center of the grassy lot grew a door. It was as if someone had planted a house, and the house was sprouting out of the ground. From the new door came walls extending out from the wood beam threshold. Windows appeared as the house continued to grow from the ground. He watched excitedly as the walls continue to grow, and a roof lifted as if being jacked up from within. In seconds, it was over with.

"You have done well Pettigrew," said Voldemort softly.

Pettigrew whimpered as Voldemort pushed open the broken gate, which squeaked loudly into the night. Above, from the window above the door came a face from between the curtains.

"Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off!" shouted James as he retreated from the window.

Pettigrew whimpered louder, but Voldemort was not paying attention, for he raised his wand to the door, and blasted it off his hinges with a blinding white light. His laughter cut through the autumn night, making Pettigrew jump.

James was standing at the base of the stairs, his wand at the ready. "You won't pass me," he said angrily.

"Oh, wont I?" said Voldemort in a mocking voice. "You jest?"

Voldemort raised his wand is a grin on his face and screamed "Avada. Kadavara!"

James was dead in before he hit the ground in a flash of blinding green slight. Voldemort once again laughed sinisterly as he stepped over James lifeless form, and up the stairs. On the landing, he threw back his head, and sniffed the air as if tracking his prey. "Ah…" he said turning to a door just off the landing.

With his wand raised, he once again blasted the door off its hinges like he did on the door below; His red eyes gleaming in triumph as he looked upon his prey. Lily was cowering in the corner, shielding Harry from Voldemorts gaze. Voldemorts laughter ringed through the room, making lily jump and moved deeper into the corner.

"Not Harry! Not Harry! Please - I will do anything!" cried lily tears streaming down her face as he clutched Harry to her all the more closely.

"Stand aside," said Voldemort in a menacing growl. "Stand aside, girl…Stand aside, now!" said Voldemort with a great amount of pleasure twisting his pale face, his long fingers gripping his wand tightly.

"Not Harry! Please no, take me…kill me instead!" cried lily still shielding Harry from Voldemort. Not Harry! Please…have mercy…Have mercy!"

Voldemort merely grinned as he waved his wand, and utter the killing curse. Her voice was silenced in a rush of wind, and a flash of green light. She was dead, still shielding Harry in his arms.

"And now," said Voldemort menacingly as he moved forward to go in for the kill he had been longing to do for so long. "Let there be no doubt which of us is the most powerful."

He pointed his wand directly at the young Harry in lily's dead arms, gathered his breath, and shirked "Avada Kadavara" into the cold night air.

There was a flash of green light; the sound of Harry crying as the curse hit him; a second flash of light, a blinding red this time; and the sound of an explosion as a scream rent the air, and the force blasted the windows and obliterated the walls and roof above them. The floors shook, and many of the board broke from the force of the explosion. Then, the clatter of a wand hitting the floor, and nothing more could be heard but Harry crying loudly. The room had been destroyed. The roof and walls had been blasted out. All that remained was the wand rolled across the floor and the child still in his mother's arms.

Below, in the garden, Pettigrew stood, horrified. He tried to gather his courage. It took many minutes, but he quickly went into the house to see what had happened. As he stormed up the stair, a black mist moved down the stair, but he took no notice as he struggled over the debris. Into the room, he saw Harry in the corner crying, still in his mothers arm with a cut on his forehead. His eyes flicked around, and there, on the floor was Voldemort wand. He grabbed it quickly and disappearated with a pop.

* * *

Dumbledore had been sitting into the night in his study, deep in thought. The months of late had been growing darker, as Voldemort continued his rise to power. However, what was worrying him the most was not Voldemort, but the Potters and the Longbottoms. The order was no were near figuring out which he was after, but both had gone into hiding anyways at Dumbledore's request. His fear was that something soon would happen; he felt it in every fiber of his being. It was many minutes until he had broke out of his deep ravine that he noticed that one of his silver instruments had sprang into life, and was emitting little buffs of purple smoke.

Rising form his seat; every stepped towards the spindly table was filled with growing dread. He lifted it gentle from his place, returned to his seat, and set it down on his desk. Tapping the instrument with his wand, Dumbledore gazed as the purple smoke rose out of a small hole in the top. He watched as 3 purple birds rose into the air and twisted and danced around each other. "What has happened?" whispered Dumbledore to the silver instrument.

The two birds on either side of the center bird flew away, dissolving into a purple haze. The middle one remained. His worst fears confirmed. He stood quickly, and in his haste to get to the door, he knocked the instrument off his desk were it shattered into many silver fragments. He paid no attention but ran full speed, wrenching open the door and storming down the moving staircase and out into the corridor below.

As he moved through the corridors and down the flights of stairs, he made very little sound. He burst down the marble staircase, and out the doors onto the grounds.

The night was cold and calm. The moon was casting the grounds in silver relief, and in the distance, was Hagrid's hut, glowing in the moonlight. He raised his wand over his head, and shot what looked like a silvery bird that streaked through the night air towards Hagrid hunt. A minute later, the loud footfalls of giant feet sounded from the distance as Hagrid ran full speed towards Dumbledore.

"You needed me?" panted Hagrid, his cross bow at his side and a quiver of arrows slung over his back.

"You need to head to Godric's Hollow," said Dumbledore quietly. "I will be awaiting for you there. Use magic if you need to."

"Godric's Hollow?" repeated Hagrid, a look of dawning comprehensions coming over his bearded face. "Wha… galloping gargoyles, yeh don't mean…" Hagrid's voice faltered.

"I will be awaiting you Hagrid," said Dumbledore trying to sound calm and collected. "I must leave at once."

Dumbledore turned toward the gates flanked by winged boars; they glinted in the moonlight. He ran as fast as his legs could carry him, leaving Hagrid behind him. The gates came nearer as he ran, and once he had passed them, and left the grounds completely, he had disappearated with a swish of his purple robes.

Godric's Hollow was thankfully empty as he ran towards the house at the end of the cobbled street. The house was in ruins, and parts had been blasted away completely. As he ran, he could hear the sound of a baby crying, and he ran all the more faster. Though he had run a great deal of distance, he was not out of breath as he pushed open the broken gate, and ran to the front door.

He paused; James dead body was lying at the foot of the stairs slightly covered by rubble and debris. Dumbledore tried to regain his composure as he stepped over James form, and walked carefully up stairs, turning through what remained of the doorway, and across the rubble strewn floor towards the corner where Harry, still being clutched in lily's lifeless arms stood screaming into the night, the lightning bolt cut visible from across the room.

Gently, and agile, Dumbledore moved across the floor, skirting the hole that had been blasted into the floor to where Harry was still crying. He lifted the child into his arms, and fell to his knees, clutching the young Harry to him as he showed an uncommon sign of emotion. For so long, he tried to stay calm and collected, but as he held the young Harry, in the rubble of the destroyed house, everything seemed to have caught up to him.

This was the price we pay, thought Dumbledore quietly to himself as he cradled the young child in his arms.

He wiped his eyes with the cuff of his robe, and looked down at Harry. Harry had stopped crying, and was staring into Dumbledore's pale blue eyes.

"I could not protect you in life," he said trying to regain his composure once more. "May you mother protect you in death."

He waved his wand over Harry, and muttered a spell; a glowing blue light shined momentarily about Harry, then faded.

The sounds of giant footfalls made Dumbledore look up. Hagrid was nosily making his way up the stairs and stopped, ashen faced in the threshold of the ruined doorway. Dumbledore rose, carried the young Harry in his arms, and handed him to Hagrid.

"You must lay low and hide until the cover of night," in the distance a golden pink tinge on the horizon was forming. "You must take him to his aunt and uncle at number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. I will await for you there at midnight."

Dumbledore patted Hagrid gently on the arm, and made his way downstairs and left the house; he stood staring back up at the ruin of the house, and disappearated with another swish of his purple robes.


	2. Spinners End

Chapter Two

Spinners End

'_The Ministry was brought under more fire as the magical community tries to cope with the announcement that many hoped would never come. The Ministers office is coming under intense pressure as the magical community floods it will letters and howlers out of anger for their poor handling of He-who-must-not-be-named's return, and their silence and refusal to accept the truth. "The rumors that the ministry has been keeping quiet on the reappearance of He-who-must-not-be named are false," assured Percy Weasley, a member of the Minister's office. "The reappearance of He-who-must-not-be-named has come as just as much a shock to the ministry as it has to the magical community at…"_

Harry threw down the paper. It angered him that Fudge has chosen to act innocent in the whole affair. How could he say that, when he was told over a year ago that Voldemort had been restored to full strength? It was as Dumbledore had said on that June night; it was fudges love of his position that kept him from believing that Voldemort was back, all because he was scared of admitting that the world he lived in was about to change. Now, he was acting as if it all came as a huge and unexpected shock.

Harry reached down and picked up the paper again, and read the last few lines of the article.

'…_many among the magical community have called for Fudge to step down from his position as the British Minister of Magic. It has been met by criticism by some within the ministry who are adamant that to change ministers now in such a sensitive climate would only prove detrimental to the efforts of getting You-know-who under control and out of power. No comment has been given by the Ministers office on if he will resign."_

Why had Harry ever thought that Fudge would change his tact when he finally caught on that Voldemort was back? He threw the daily prophet onto his bedside table, and walked over to the window.

The warm summer air was calm and still. He scanned the cloudless sky, but nothing could be seen on the solid mass of blue. He was growing anxious for Hedwig to return. It had been just over a week since he returned to the stiff and proper Privet drive, and each day seemed to drag on painfully slow. They had promised that they would come and get him as soon as possible, but had not yet said when.

He walked over to his bed, and sat with his knees up to his chest and his back against the wall. It seemed odd that only a year ago, he felt angry, trapped at Privet Drive. This year however, he felt more trapped in his mind then anywhere else. He felt that if he could just leave the solitude at Privet Drive behind, and be with his friends, it would ease his growing depression.

So many times, he would awake in the night to a sound of a large dog barking. It was only the new next door neighbor's large dog to which Uncle Vernon had formed a vendetta against (The filthy mongrel! I will rejoice the day they move out!) But for Harry, it had always made his heart skip a beat. He half expected, half wished that a big black bear like dog would appear out of the shadows. But as his mind caught up, he would come back to his senses, and his pain would grow all the more as if someone was closing a noose around his heart.

The one thing that was making his stay truly horrible was the dead weight that had settled on him as he tried to cope with losing someone that was very important to him. He knew that wishing, hoping that Sirius would appear was in vain; there was nothing he could do.

Ron and Hermione were sending daily owls, but they were far from comforting. Though they never spoke of Sirius; neither did they say when or where they would be taking him aware from Privet Drive. All they had to say on the matter was that it was not ready yet. What "it" was, Harry did not know.

And so, he sat, with his back to the wall watching the last vestiges of the sun fade, and the hazy orange glow of the streetlight to appear through the open window. The large dog next door, barked, and Harry's heart, as it had so often did in the time he had since he returned felt like it skipped a beat, but it was soon faded to more howls of anger from Uncle Vernon.

* * *

The sounds of night soon filled the room as Harry sat against the wall, trying to just let go, to not dwell on what had happened. The past week had dragged on as if it was a month. He spent most of it alone, waiting for a sign that the Order would be coming for him. He slept badly, partly because of the barking of the dog next door, but also because he was dreaming of the Department of Mysteries; of watching the brains soar out of the tank; the confrontation in the hall of prophecy; the battle between Voldemort and Dumbledore. He was grateful that he was not plagued by dreams of Sirius, though did not understand why he was not; was it that he dwelled so much on it in his waking moments, that his mind could not stand to dwell on it any longer in the unconscious grip of sleep?

And so, late into the night he stood vigil, waiting for the sound of wings, and a burning hope of leaving this place until slowly, he drifted off into slumber still fully dressed.

Hedwig had not returned when Harry had awoken. He rose, resigned to the fact that he would probably have another's day long wait for the letter he so wanted. The morning had dawned bright and clear, a gentle wind rustled the leaves in the trees as Harry got up, scanned the sky once more, and when certain there was nothing there, he made his way out the door of his room, and down the stairs.

Uncle Vernon's mustache bristled as Harry sat down at the table. He was still clearly in a state of indignation of what happened at kings cross station. He had taken his old stance of pretending Harry was not there, but his body language betrayed him. Harry grabbed a few slices of toast from the stack in front of him, and ate quickly, not wanting to force his company on any of them anymore then he had to. If he had the choice, he would never return, but he knew that it might very well have been Privet Drive that had kept him alive all these years.

Aunt Petunia was standing at the kitchen sink, staring out the window as though deep in thought. He had noticed that since is return; his Aunt had been very subdued, quiet, and did her best not to meet his eyes. Though he so longed to leave, his curiosity was growing as to why she had become so quiet and distant.

She turned, and bustled quickly out of the kitchen. Harry, put down his toast, and followed her. He followed her into the drawing room, she looked up when he entered, and averted her eyes.

"Is everything okay?" asked Harry out of curiosity for his Aunt's strange behavior as of late.

She turned to look at him again, this time, not turning away to avoid his stares. There was a very long pause in which they both looked into each others eyes.

"I…I did not expect all this," said Aunt Petunia weakly.

"Expect what?" said Harry, sitting down in the chair opposite her.

"All of this to happen," she said quietly. "I did not know that the world which I so long had tried to distance myself from would catch up to me, to haunt me again."

Harry stared at his aunt, trying to take in what she had said. He remembered back to the night of the dementor attack, when Aunt Petunia had shown herself to be more knowledgeable of the hidden magical world then Harry had ever thought.

She reached into her apron, and extracted a tightly rolled newspaper that Harry recognized as an old daily prophet. He took it and opened it to find the paper from 3 days ago where they were reporting more on the mass revolt of the dementors of Azkaban. Clearly she had picked it up while Harry was outside trying to ease his sorrows once more by walking through Little Whinging.

"How did you know about the dementors," asked Harry after a few minutes silence.

Aunt Petunia looked up, her face as growing red, and she looked away again. Harry had the distinct impression that there was something Aunt Petunia was hiding from him.

"You can tell me," said Harry with out hesitation. "I won't think badly of you."

There was another long pregnant pause, then aunt petunia, looking down at her feet spoke in a constraint voice. "I…I don't know how to start." Her face grew ever redder and Harry saw that her hands were shaking slightly. "I was 4 when Lily was born. I felt so threatened by her, like she would replace me in my parent's hearts. I…I know now that this was not true, but growing up I felt like I was pushed to the side, while my parents showered Lily with love and attention." A tear fell down her cheek and onto the floor. "I was too blinded to see I was wrong.

"I grew jealous; lily was smarter then me, prettier then me; It only made me grow more bitter and resentful. And then… then, on her eleventh birthday, she got her letter, and… and once again she had beaten me to something. She went off to Hogwarts, and I was left, to hear of the stories she brought home. My parents were proud of lily. Deep down I was angry that I wasn't the one that restored magic to the family."

"What?" Harry blurted out. "What do you mean restored magic to the family?"

Aunt petunia was still staring resolutely at her shoes. "We grew up with stories of might and magic, of adventures that our great grandfather said he had been on, where his magic saved the day. He spoke of dragons and other mythical beast. He used to tell tales of these creatures that feed on others happiness, and drains them of it. He was very old when we were young, but his stories always kept us eager for more. He spoke of a prison out to sea where these hooded happiness stealing creatures stood guard over the most evil, foulest wizards of the age. We were enthralled by the stories he told. He spoke of a school where those of magic could learn and grow.

"I spent much of my childhood wishing, hoping that it was all real. I used to dream of taking my place at the magical school, and becoming a powerful witch like in my great grandfather's stories, and going on those adventures he had. But my eleventh birthday came and left, and I was disheartened, I was growing from the naivety of a young child, and was beginning to push those fables out of my mind. And then, on Lily's eleventh birthday, the letter came. I thought it was a sick joke of my great grandfather who was nearing the end of his life. He was so proud, as was the rest of my mother's family. He died shortly after that. From that moment on, my hatred for all things magic grew, and my resentment for my sister reached its pitch. I turned my back on her, and the stories that once filled my dreams."

She stopped, more tears leaking down onto her shoes.

"So," said Harry very taken aback. "You're a squib?"

"No," said aunt petunia miserably. "No, my great grandfather was the last in the family until lily got her letter. I doubt that with such a gap, I would be considered anything more then a muggle."

Harry couldn't help but feel pity for his Aunt. There were many times in Harry's life where he was jealous of what Dudley got; he understood her completely.

"And now," said Aunt Petunia croakily. "I feel like it is all closing in one me. When I found you on my doorstep, I saw Lily within you, I saw her haunting green eyes looking at me. It reminded me of every reason I hated Lily so much. But I knew that to abandon you might prove your end. As I looked into your eyes, I remembered, that in all my bitterness, there was one person who loved me no matter what."

"And that was my mother?" questioned Harry quietly.

Aunt Petunia dabbed her eyes with her apron. "I took you because deep down, I wanted Lily to forgive me for turning my back on her. By taking you in, though you reminded me so much of her, I was repaying the lost years to her.

"Then, last summer, the dementors, I…I felt like the wall keeping me safe had collapsed. I remembered back to the great grandfather's stories, and it reminded me the price I now pay for keeping you safe. Yet…" she dabbed her eyes again. "What could I do? I could not abandon you though the pain was still strong. You were a living reminder of the world I so longed to be apart of. And now, the world I so longed to be apart of was now in chaos. I am scared, scared that the wall between the life I have, and the Life I wanted was falling. I…I am afraid something will happen again, and this time the price will be higher."

Harry stared at his Aunt for a few minutes, trying to take in all that she was saying. He too, knew what it felt like for the wall between his two worlds to seem to melt away. All was silent until Uncle Vernon entered. Aunt petunia quickly dabbed her eyes and regained her composure.

"Well Petunia dear," he said jovially, completely unaware of what had just happened. "I am off to the office." he kissed his wife and gathered his coat and his hat, and left with out a further word.

Harry jumped when something griped his shoulder. He looked up to see Hedwig looking reproachful at what she saw as a less then warm welcome. "You scared me," he said weakly. She hooted quietly and held out her leg, and Harry removed the letter that was tied to it. He hastily unrolled it and read.

'_Harry,_

_Everything is ready, and mum says we are coming to pick you up tonight after sundown. They want to leave as soon as possible, and they want you to have all your things packed. Sorry that it's taken so long, but some of the order has been busy, we only just arrived ourselves. Just send Hedwig back so we know you got the letter. I can't say too much more, I will see you tonight._

_Ron._

_P.S. I would recommend you don't pack one of your robes, you will need it."_

He had been waiting for so long to get this letter, and yet, he looked up, Aunt Petunia had already left, and deep down, though he was so glad to finally be leaving, all the same, a part of him felt guilty for leaving her. He spent most of the day up in his room. He had no idea where his aunt was, but when he had looked for her, she too it seemed had left the house as had Dudley short after he had went back to pack. It did not take him long to pack, and he had done as Ron suggested and kept out one of his robes.

He wondered how they were going to leave to Grimmauld place, as he was certain that they would be returning to the HQ, it was the safest place outside of Hogwarts. With a pang, he remembered that his broom was still in the Hogwarts dungeons; he had not gotten it back at the end of term. Why would he need to keep the extra robe out?

Aunt petunia did not return till late in the afternoon, but was nervous about speaking more of the conversation. Though Harry tried to talk to her, she bustled away saying she was busy and needed to get her work done. When uncle Vernon came home, she was to her normal self, though, Harry noticed that her eyes were red.

He decided to tell the dursleys that he was leaving after night fell, and Uncle Vernon broke his vow of silence to exclaim loudly that Harry leaving had made his day. He was soon drowned out by a chorus of barking by the neighbors dog, to which is strode over to the kitchen window, wrenched it open, and yelled "If you do not control that mongrel of yours, I will be calling the glue factory!" to which he returned after slamming the window shut agitated. Harry ate quickly, and paced his room, waiting as the last vestiges of the summer sun fades away, and the orange glow of the streetlamps was the only light in the room. He hastily put on the robe they had asked him to keep out.

The house seemed to shiver with anticipation, as the Dursley's grew nervous of the imminent arrival of a gang of witches and wizards ticked nearer. Uncle Vernon was still agitated, Dudley was quiet, and Aunt Petunia stood in the kitchen, staring out the window like she had done that morning, deep in thought.

He grabbed Hedwig's empty cage (having sent Hedwig back with his reply) and heaved his trunk down the stairs and put them in the hallway. They waited in silence, Harry sitting on his trunk, and Uncle Vernon pacing; Dudley had taken refuge in his room.

The dog next door was making a great deal of racket, much more then usual, and Uncle Vernon got up to yell again, but stopped dead; a group of people were outside the back door, he could see their forms through the lace curtain. He watched as one raised there wand and muttered something he could not hear through the glass. The lock clicked, and the door opened quietly.

Standing on the threshold was Remus Lupin, Tonks, and Mad Eye Moody. They quickly moved and were followed by Bill Weasley, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and to Harry's surprise Ron. They hastily closed the door behind them; it was a few moments before Harry realized that the dogs barking had suddenly stop. Each was carrying a broom, and looking agitated. But none was more agitated then Uncle Vernon, who was eyeing Moody with a burning hatred in his eyes. "You!" he said savagely. Clearly Uncle Vernon was still angry over the confrontation at Kings Cross.

"Me!" growled Moody in reply. "Got everything ready? Good"

Moody was eyeing Uncle Vernon with the same dislike on his face as Uncle Vernon had, and for a few moments they stared at each other, shooting daggers with their eyes wishing nothing but ill for the other. Harry pulled his trunk through the kitchen where Lupin and Tonks began once again to harness it to Tonks broom.

"I don't have a broom," said Harry warily. "It was confiscated."

"Here," said Ron. Harry had not noticed that Ron was carrying two brooms. Ron threw him the other, and with a grin, Harry recognized it as the firebolt Sirius had given him, looking as perfect as ever. Lupin and Tonks were harnessing Harry's things to Tonks broom again.

"Now if only I can get quidditch back," said Harry grinning. Ron looked suddenly uncomfortable, his grin had slide off his face.

"Why can't we just use a portkey?" asked Harry as he looked out at the gathered crowd.

"Cant risk it," growled Moody. "The Ministry keeps records of these things, and there are those in the Ministry we can't trust. Come on, before the spell wares off on that wretched dog. Let's go."

Harry followed them back out the door, thankful that Ron had told him to wear his robes. He turned, remembering he direction they had headed last year, but looking at the others, saw that they were preparing to head in a different course. Harry felt the cold sensation on the top of his head, and knew that Moody as disillusioned him like last time. Green wands sparks appeared among the stars and they took off, Harry following between Tonks and Ron with Lupin and Bill in the front, Moody and Shacklebolt in the back.

He watched as Privet Drive seemed to fall away, and following Lupin and Bill, they flew into the starry night. Yet again, though he was glad to be leaving, a part of him felt bad about leaving his aunt behind in the state she was that morning.

And so, they flew, Harry feeling free and happy once more. As the night grew, he started to become colder as the wind rushed past him. It became more pronounced as the flight continued. He was being taken in a different direction then last time. They were not heading towards London, but were flying instead of over towns and cities, but less populated communities.

Harry's mind shifted as they flew. He was remembering the Daily Prophet that Aunt Petunia had handed him, the one that was talking in more detail about the dementors revolting from Azkaban. As he thought about it, he felt colder. Something was happening, the coldness was growing, and it was not the coldness of the wind lashing his face; he felt it grow within him; no they couldn't be here, not now!

"Something is coming from the left!" roared Moody as Harry fumbled, trying to pull his wand from his waistband, the cold growing all the stronger. "WE ARE BEING TAILED!" shouted Moody.

Dark shapes were moving around them, coming closer. Harry had freed his wand and pointed it at the nearest shape as it soared nearer. He focuses his mind, trying to find a happy memory. "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" But nothing came but a feeble wisp of silver mist. All around him, the others were casting the charm around him. From their wands erupted not silver mist, but corporal patronesses. He could not make out what they were, they were circling around them. The cold was growing stronger yet, as more dementors loamed out of the dark night. The only light came from the patronesses circling them, keeping the dementors at bay.

Harry focused his mind again, trying to find a happy thought. But in all his despair of the past few weeks, he was unable to muster anything that was strong enough. More dementors were looming out of the night. The cold was growing, and all happy thoughts were being drained from him. The shouting of the others was fading into silence, the wind was growing quiet in his ears. 'NO!' he thought desperately, trying once again to regain his composure. He raised his wand one more time, and shouted the incantation with every fiber of his being, every ounce of strength he could muster in the growing cold.

The silver stag erupted from the tip of his wand, and joined the foray. He felt his strength failing him as the stag reared, pushing the dementors back. Something was happening. The dementors were being push farther away. It was as if the others patronesses were too weak to drive the dementors off alone; that his patronus, which shone brighter then the others, almost blinding, was able to aide the others in doing what they could not do alone. The dementors were fleeing, shrieking into the night.

Harry felt the happiness returning,; the cold was retreating, he could hear the wind, and the others shouting around him. The stars had begun to shine once more. The patronesses faded, making the dark all the darker. By the moonlight he saw Lupin and bill dive; instinctively, he followed, and below them, trees gilt by the silver light of the moon loamed nearer. They were heading towards an empty clearing, the ground rising fast toward them until Harry felt his feet hit the ground.

Looking around, he saw that everyone was out of breath. Harry looked around the empty clearing surrounded by a dense impenetrable forest. Harry stared around him. He was confused. He felt Moody tap him on the head with his wand, and knew that the disillusionment spell had been removed.

"We were tailed," growled Moody. "It was a gathering of dementors."

Harry turned around; Dumbledore was standing nearby. He had appeared in the blink of an eye while Harry was looking around at the foreboding forest. Dumbledore looked grim, as he surveyed them all.

"Welcome Harry," said Dumbledore quietly, his blue eyes twinkling in the moon light that was flooding the clearing. "To Spinner's End."


End file.
